


Ceci N'est Pas Une Pipe

by thelivingbird



Category: WandaVision (TV)
Genre: F/M, shameless sitting around and thinking about things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:48:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29211375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelivingbird/pseuds/thelivingbird
Summary: Wanda wonders if she may have forgotten some important details.
Relationships: Wanda Maximoff/Vision
Comments: 2
Kudos: 46





	Ceci N'est Pas Une Pipe

Just as good as the real thing.

The Vision stands before her in sharp shades of grey welcoming her home. His hand under hers and it feels exactly like it used to, better even. And when the color finally washes over the both of them, he’s shining brighter than ever before. She’d like to think that so is she.

Wanda puts the work in. What she is living is something the likes of Stark and Banner would envy. They could dedicate a lifetime to building something that could challenge what she has done here in the new and improved Westview and it would never measure up. The best parts of Vision are still left here with her.

He goes to work doing something or the other, neither of them know exactly what. She stays at home keeping it all under control. Maintaining and improving. When that gets boring, the boys come along, their wish come true. Two handfuls, and Vision is ever attentive. His schedule at work suddenly becomes lighter. Everyone in Westview is so amenable to the family’s needs. Vision masters the changing of the dirty diaper. Her finds the perfect rhythm to rock the boys back to sleep when they’ve been fussy. When they get older, he cooks them breakfast and packs their lunches, of course never eating a bite himself.

Tommy and Billy love their father’s cooking.

Wanda remembers the first time he cooked for her. He tried his best, a pinch of paprika and all. The taste lifted her spirits only the complete comic quality of its poor taste. Vision could never manage to get cooking right no matter the quality of his programming. Hard to go off taste for someone who doesn’t eat.

This Vision still doesn’t eat, but he cooks like a world class chef. His understanding of cuisine could not be matched even if the contents of every cook book in the town library was memorized. And suddenly Wanda is sitting across from her husband at the breakfast table and she wonders where the wires got crossed. Was this misalignment her doing, or a product of those final moments he spent on Shuri’s table trying to free himself from the burden in his mind. She chews slowly and the taste is so exquisite she is ready to burst into tears right there. Instead, she kisses her sons goodbye before they jump on the school bus before promptly rushing to the bathroom with a hand over her mouth.

Vision’s knuckles knock on the open door. He doesn’t faze through any walls anymore. At least without announcing himself through the thin build of the house. Come to think of it, he hasn’t gotten a single headache since they moved to Westview. Quickly wiping at her eyes, she turns to him and wonders if the hard borders of silver and maroon has switched since breakfast. If she touches him, he may ripple like water. The outline of him is becoming indistinct. Wanda doesn’t realize it’s her own tears creating that effect until his hands are holding her face and his voice is low asking what is wrong and if there is anything he can do to help.

His hands feel terribly cold. Wanda represses the shiver creeping up her spine.

That previous night, she consciously slowed her own breathing pretending to fall asleep on his chest. As he slipped into his own version of sleep, always waiting until she is blissfully off herself, she went back over him in her mind. No, this was as exact a Vision as there could possibly be, as there ever was. It had to be.

That voice on the radio nags at her. It had the audacity to assume that she was the direct object of whatever action was causing this Westview phenomenon. They must be imagining some nefarious force was doing this to her, as if this was something wrong. Everyone else got their loved ones back. The videos of joyous reunions after the snap were reversed played on a loop. Perfect fodder for the twenty-four-hour news cycle. Even Steve Rogers, played with time to return to his love. The whole world was in sync in celebration while Wanda was dry heaving over a toilet bowl.

Clint tried to connect, as if they were in the same position. She wanted to spit in his face. Did he watch Natasha die twice? The second time rubbing salt in the wound. Did he have to kill her himself and learn it was for nothing? No, Wanda could not connect with Clint who had an entire family to return home to while she had no family, no country, and no Vision. So, she gave herself a gift and the ones that had not long ago happily thrown her in the Raft prison, straight jacket and collar, were now trying to take that away. They should be grateful all she asks for is this.

She tells Vision she’s only emotional because the boys are growing up so fast. He laughs about something concerning an empty nest. Wanda buries her face in his chest only to look up and see him in his disguise. He had been starting to wear that face around the house more and more regardless of whether or not there were guests around. A worry strikes her heart that Tommy and Billy will start to confuse the two versions of their father. Maybe this blonde man will become more real to them. Is this Vision more real to Wanda than the last?

The thought sinks away. It is dangerous to start separating the two into a before and after. Vision is permanent, never changing, eternal even. He was always here and always will be. Vision could always cook wonderfully and Wanda would make this true. Each week brought a new episode of adventure with the past problems wiped away. Westview worked so cleanly that way.

Wanda takes in Vision again. Appearance shifting without her noticing. They say each time you remember something you rewrite it to be what you need and then it settles down into its new shape until you recall it again into a new evolution. This is a form that will grow and change, just like she will. Wanda decides it is what Vision would have dreamt for himself.

They walk out to the living room arm in arm. The painting by the staircase has changed. Wanda pretends sleep again that night, instead reaching out to Vision's dreaming state, reading nothing.


End file.
